Black Market Trade
by Miranda179
Summary: Thomas is involved in the black market but other entrepreneurs aren't happy about it. And just what are the intentions of the mysterious man who keeps visiting him? **Minor Season 2 spoilers**
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, here goes. What could have happened when Thomas got involved in selling stolen goods. I hoped this would happen anyway… I think this is a T rating, I'll try not to slip into an M.**

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Thomas Barrow knew no one had seen him going to his shed. He'd made sure of it, and besides, it was night time. He was making a tidy sum trading scarce foodstuffs: the money he'd paid for it had been worth every penny. Tomorrow he must explore other avenues, because word of his business was spreading fast round the village and further.

Shutting the door to the shed, he turned away, looking round at the rows of packets and boxes, but was pushed against the wall face first, arm twisted against his back.

"Think you're so hard, fella?" growled a voice.

Thomas couldn't reply as his mouth was squashed against the crumbling wall. His mind however was full of revengeful thoughts.

"You stop selling, or you die." The heavy accent was unfamiliar.

"Wha-?" Thomas managed, his face ground against the dusty bricks. He didn't dislike being shoved up against a wall by a muscular man, but what he did object to was being threatened with death.

"My boss, he don't like you," continued his assailant. "You undercut him. You have two choices. Sell at higher price or sell goods to him."

Thomas mumbled something with difficulty.

"What?" The man released him a little and turned him round. He was taller than Thomas with very short blond hair, a broken nose and a forbidding expression.

"I said: what price would he give me for all the goods?"

"Twenty, maybe thirty?"

"That's not enough. I could sell them for more." He hoped his voice didn't betray his fear. His heart was pounding and knees shaking but he wouldn't let some gangster see that, even one dressed all in black.

"It is generous offer." He tightened his grip on Thomas's collar. "You prefer death, yes?" He whipped out a knife and pressed it against his victim's throat.

To Thomas's embarrassment, he made a sound like a whimper.

"Not so brave now, eh?" sneered the brute, pushing the blade further. "My boss, he is mean. He is not so kind as me." His hot breath warmed Thomas's ear unbearably.

"Kind?" Thomas shifted position to ease his neck. "That's not the word I'd use."

"So what is your answer?"

"Let me think about it."

"No. No time to think. I need answer now." The knife pressed harder.

"Okay! I'll sell them to him." Thomas didn't have any nerve left. If the man let him go, he'd just fall over.

The pressure on his throat eased.

"I'll come and get stuff tomorrow." But he was still standing close, peering at Thomas's neck in the moonlight streaming through the uncurtained window. Concerned, Thomas gingerly put his hand up to the wound, feeling wetness there. Looking at his fingers, he gasped at the blood.

"You cut me!" he said as fiercely as he could. "So you're just going to kill me anyway?"

"No!" The ruffian frowned.

"You're going to leave me to bleed to death here?"

"It's only scratch, don't be coward. Cure for bleeding is simple."

He bent his head, making Thomas flinch, and ran his tongue slowly along the cut on his neck. Thomas sagged against the wall, but in a moment the hood walked away chuckling.

"Saliva is best for wounds," he said over his shoulder.

Thomas slid down the wall, shaking uncontrollably, only half in fear. The full moon, the dark, the strangeness of his visitor's actions were overwhelming in so many ways. He'd read Mr. Stoker's 'Dracula': had he just been attacked by a vampire?

He sat there on the dusty floor for at least half an hour before pulling himself together and standing up on trembling legs. The man or monster would be back tomorrow, so he'd see what happened then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thomas investigates…**

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Thomas was determined not to be controlled by anyone, so he took his time going to the shed, arriving there at lunch time in the end.

He unlocked the door with hands which tried hard not to shake. Cautiously peeking through it, there was no sign of an intruder.

Fiddling with the packets and tins aimlessly, he wondered how long it would take for the man to turn up. Alert to every noise, he distracted himself by arranging everything symmetrically, not knowing what he was doing.

An hour later, the door creaked open and he jumped. The visitor from yesterday stood there, a half smile on his face.

"I will take it now."

"Okay."

The man picked up a case of flour and strode out. Thomas walked hesitantly after him to see a small van outside with the back open where he was arranging the case. The sunlight didn't seem to be affecting him, so maybe he wasn't a vampire. What a silly thought that had been last night, the product of fear and arousal. And he'd dreamed of erotic adventures with a vague figure, sometimes a vampire, sometimes a man. He must pull himself together.

"Where's my money?" he demanded.

"Don't tell the whole world." The villain frowned, pushing him back into the shed. He got something out of his pocket and put it in Thomas's hand.

The feel of paper reassured him and he turned away to count the wad of notes.

"Don't trust me, eh?"

"Why should I?"

He laughed and continued loading his van. Thomas didn't intend to help so just leaned against the wall, watching him getting hotter and sweatier until he had to take his black shirt off, revealing well developed muscles. Thomas was hypnotized by the back and forth journey of this uninvited guest: picking up a box or two, putting it in the van, arranging it competently, then starting again.

"Finished. Bye," said the man, putting his shirt back on. He got into the cab of the van and tried to start the reluctant engine, which juddered into life after a few attempts.

This roused Thomas from his trance and he watched the vehicle getting smaller in the distance. Shaking himself into action, he jumped on his bicycle and followed, not really knowing why apart from a vague desire to find out where his stock was going and who wanted it.

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He pedaled frenziedly, as if possessed, and nearly caught the slow moving, grumbling van. It turned right abruptly and through a narrow gate, stopping when a guard stepped out from the undergrowth. Thomas had to steer his bike quickly behind a bush to avoid being seen. Greenery overhung the path and it closed over the van like a curtain. Then the gate guard disappeared again.

Thomas wondered if he had actually witnessed that. Shaking his head, he waited half an hour then, covering his bike with leaves, sneaked down the road a little to find a way to follow the van. Barbed wire greeted him at every turn, but having dealt with that in the trenches, he pulled on his gloves and worked it apart so he could get through. It took ages, but at last he made it. Pleased that he'd always had a good sense of direction, he quickly found the track with fresh tyre marks.

Smiling, he followed the path through the undergrowth and after walking for an hour, came upon a large stately house, cream in colour and very well maintained. He hid in the undergrowth and watched. As it was a pleasant afternoon, a man in a well cut suit and perfectly shined shoes came to sit outside at a table, accompanied by a uniformed butler and maid. They poured tea, brought cakes and generally fussed over the gentleman until he was happily settled.

Thomas slunk round the edge of the trees, observing the house from all angles. On one side was a yard, full of wooden cases with men hauling them about or ripping off their nailed down covers.

On another side of the house was a conservatory with the windows blacked out. The door was open and Thomas caught glimpses of men hurrying about inside carrying boxes. Then he noticed the van parked at the side, the back open showing it was empty. He cursed himself for being so slow as to miss the action, but he'd bet that was where his food had gone. If he could just sneak in and get it back, he could re-sell it for even more money. The boss wouldn't notice if he sold it a little at a time.

Thinking about this, he turned away from the house, and walked slap into someone.

"My boss would like a word with you," said the sallow, dark haired man in front of him. He held a gun, pointed at Thomas's chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**A short chapter, but Thomas is in deep trouble now…**

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The gunman hustled Thomas into a dimly lit interior room. It was functional, no wallpaper or photographs, just a wooden filing cabinet and a cupboard tall enough to fit a man in.

A shadowed figure sat behind a large desk.

"There." He pointed to a chair in front of him, and Thomas's captor flung him down in it, then went to lean on the door, cracking his knuckles.

"Why were you snooping round my manor?" rasped the man at the desk.

"I- I- just got lost and found myself here." Thomas knew his innocent look could fool most people.

"Pull the other one. We're miles from anywhere. What do you know about my operation?"

"N- Nothing. I was just hiking, when I-"

The man at the door laughed scornfully.

"Bollocks," said the other. "You're a spy for the Craven gang."

"The what?"

"Don't play the innocent with me! Knuckles?"

The sallow man pressed the gun against Thomas's neck and he cursed himself inwardly. What had he been thinking of, following that van?

"Tell me what you know!" snapped Knuckles.

"Nothing!"

There was a pause.

"I haven't got time for this. I know who'll persuade him to talk." The man behind the desk stood up and approached, thrusting his face right in Thomas's, breath reeking of coffee. "It's your last chance to tell me before I get someone you really don't want to meet."

A perverse desire to call his bluff made Thomas turn his head away sulkily. He had no reason to live. No one cared about him. His so called friend Miss O'Brien had soon discarded him once he'd left the service of Downton Abbey. No one else there liked him, and as for his family? They'd never understood him or even bothered to try. He sighed.

"You may well sigh!" snapped his tormentor. "You'll regret this."

Thomas shrugged.

"Take him to the cell!" ordered the boss.

Knuckles bundled him out of the room and down a dimly lit corridor, still holding the gun against his ribs. He rapped on a door.

"You in there?"

"Yep," growled a voice.

"Open it then."

The door swung open and, smiling nastily, Knuckles pushed Thomas inside. Staggering on the uneven floor, he looked up to see his visitor from yesterday, this time wearing a black leather bomber jacket.

"So, Mr. Barrow, we meet again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thomas gets involved with villains. Tell me if I should put this up to an M rating, I got a bit carried away...! And I've had such a laugh reading this out loud in Yorkshire and Russian accents. To check for mistakes, of course, not just for fun.**

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"Bit unfair you knowing my name and me not knowing yours," said Thomas, to cover up his fear.

The hood stared at him.

"Yevgeny," he said after a while, nodding.

"I'm not telling you anything, whatever you do to me."

Yevgeny laughed.

"What you want me to do to you?"

"Anything. I shan't talk." Thomas was carried away by his role as heroic spy, fighting evil.

"You don't know what you're saying. I could hurt you so you couldn't walk or talk again."

Thomas bit his lip, reconsidering his position.

"You cry over cut neck, what would you do if I did worse?"

"I didn't cry! I-"

"How is neck? Still bleeding?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

He peered at it, then abruptly pressed his finger to the wound, making Thomas gasp.

"You see? Tiny pain and you cry out."

"Alright. What d'you want to know?"

"I saw you looking at me when I was loading truck."

"So?" Now he really did expect a beating. Why couldn't he have been more subtle?

Yevgeny stepped forward.

"If that's what you want, I want it too."

They gazed at each other.

"But it has to take less than hour and sound like I'm hurting you. I have reputation to keep." He stood very close, his breath smelling of vodka.

Thomas smiled.

"Okay."

Yevgeny kissed him on the lips gently, but then put his tongue in his mouth. Thomas yelped in surprise and pushed him away.

"It's what they do in Europe. Don't be boring."

So Thomas did the same to him and they stood there kissing deeply for a while. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had kissed him, it must have been the Duke of Crowborough. He pushed that thought aside quickly, suppressing a shudder.

Yevgeny shrugged off his jacket to reveal a tight black t-shirt and Thomas put his hands under it, stroking the firm muscles of his back, then pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"Remember, they think I torture you," he whispered, suddenly biting Thomas's earlobe. His shout of pain made them both smile. "Very good. Very convincing. Come to my bed." He indicated it with a jerk of his head.

"Why's there a bed in a torture room?"

Yevgeny laughed.

"I sleep here. It's my room."

"But there aren't any windows."

"I get food. I get money and somewhere to sleep. It's not so bad." He took his hand but Thomas lost his nerve and dug his heels in.

"Is this where the torture starts?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't! I-"

"Sh, sh, sh. It's alright." He led him to the bed and sat looking up at him, then pulled him down on it. "My bark is worse than bite. Is that what you say?"

"Not sure about that." Thomas rubbed his earlobe, grinning. He leaned forward, kissed him again and pushed him back onto the bed, propping himself up so Yevgeny could undo his shirt and take it off. They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment: Thomas's slate grey and Yevgeny's ice blue. Then they fell on each other in a tangle of arms, legs, tongues, teeth and other parts, frustration and relief taking over.

"Remember to sound like you're in pain," Yevgeny gasped in his ear.

"No-o!" shouted Thomas in the direction of the door, suppressing a laugh.

"Very, very good." He pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together longingly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Will Thomas escape? Does he even want to? I was going to make this the last chapter but I have ideas for continuing it…!**

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A little while later, Knuckles sat in the office, smoking a cigar.

"That cry didn't sound like pain," he mused, hearing a noise down the corridor.

"Hm?" said the boss, engrossed in his newspaper.

"I just hope Yev's finding out what that spy knows."

"Hm? Well his hour is nearly up. He never takes longer than that to break someone."

"Yeah, by breaking their bones," laughed Knuckles. "Remember that last bloke? His face was a mess and he definitely had a broken arm."

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Some time after that, Thomas and Yevgeny lay together on the bed, both out of breath.

"That would be a grand way of finding out what people know." Thomas grinned, turning onto his side to look at the Russian.

"You think I do this with everyone?"

"Don't you?"

"Of course not." He looked away, frowning. "I am torturer, not lover. Anyway, you told me nothing."

"You didn't ask me anything!"

"Of course I didn't. I'll tell boss you know nothing. I'll tell him to send you away and never bother you again. I'll tell him-"

"Best not exaggerate."

"Now, remember, you must look as if I beat you, you must be scared of me."

"You really like that idea, don't you?" Thomas laughed. "You sadist."

"I what?"

"You're a- oh never mind."

"Come on, let's go." He sat up. "Don't hold my hand."

"Sorry. You better pull me along by the collar. Make it look realistic."

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"He knows nothing." Yevgeny faced the boss, his expression impassive, cruel even. He'd thrown Thomas down in the chair where he'd played his part well, cowering and avoiding everyone's eyes.

"He is not member of Craven gang. He won't say anything about this house, otherwise he knows I'll come looking for him and he'll get more of what he just got."

He turned to glare at the dark haired figure cringing in the chair.

"I'll find you, wherever you are. You can't escape." His words were harsh but his expression amused as he gazed down at Thomas, his back towards his employer and henchman. It was a hard job for his 'victim' to keep a terrified look on his face.

"I'll take him to the road," said Knuckles.

"No. I will do it. He won't dare escape me."

"You sayin' he'll escape me? You big lug." Knuckles stepped up to Yevgeny, unwisely.

"Boys!" snapped the boss. "Enough!"

Muttering, Knuckles retreated and Yevgeny pulled Thomas from the chair.

"Remember, Barrow. We're watching you. We're always watching you," snarled the boss and Thomas nodded.

Yevgeny dragged him out of the room, marched him down the corridor past all the frightened workers, then to the back door.

"So-" began Thomas.

"Sh!" He took him out of the house to the surrounding wood, away from prying eyes and ears. "Go. Don't come back here ever."

"Can't you come with me?" Thomas pulled him behind a bush. "Get away from all this shit?"

"I can't. They'd find me and kill me."

"Can't you come and visit me sometimes then?"

Yevgeny fiddled with some leaves on a nearby branch. "Maybe. I try."

Thomas pressed himself against the blond Russian's hard body and they kissed passionately for the umpteenth time.

"It's that way," Yevgeny said after a while, pointing in the direction of the road.

"I'll see you sometime then Yev? Go on, say yes."

"Okay." He smiled weakly and Thomas set off through the damp undergrowth, not knowing whether to feel happy or sad.

But his mind was always working. The Granthams needed a chauffeur now Branson had left, and who had he just met who could drive? And Lord Grantham was a sucker for a sob story- a poor mistreated immigrant needing a job- how could he resist? He grinned to himself as he began to make a plan.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a kind of 'time passes' chapter, hope its not too boring as its longer.**

Thomas looked round his empty shed. He didn't need to start a business immediately due to the money from Yevgeny's boss, but he wanted to do something with his life.

There was a sudden fluttering noise, so he looked outside for a bird, but couldn't see any. The noise seemed to be coming from the far wall, so he cupped his hands against the plaster, which shifted and he jumped back, dust flying up and covering him with whiteness.

The plaster disintegrated in front of him to reveal a hole in the wall. A pigeon flew out, flapping in panic and Thomas ducked as it zoomed over his head. He hurried to the door and tried to guide it outside but it was too alarmed and flew at the window.

Turning to the hole in the wall, a draft whispered past him and he realized there was a chimney in there. So this shed had been a home once, with a fireplace. An idea struck him: no one wanted him at Downton Abbey so why not move in here?

He stood back, grinning at the thought. He could start now, all he needed was something to sweep the chimney out with. He could get a stove and fit it to the fireplace. There must already be a water supply to the shed as there was a small sink in the corner. All he needed was a bed. He smirked, thinking of the last bed he'd laid in.

No point thinking of that though, he knew he'd never see Yevgeny again- it has been weeks since then. He'd probably moved on anyway, criminals didn't hang around. He'd found out the Granthams had a new chauffeur before he'd even thought how to broach the subject to them, so it wasn't like he could offer Yev anything.

The pigeon was still flapping at the window and he realized if he was going to sleep in the shed, he'd need curtains. Could he nick some from somewhere or would he have to make some? He hated sewing, he'd done enough of it in the army.

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The next weeks flew as Thomas spent all his time making the shed habitable. Mrs Patmore had proved to be a surprising ally at the Abbey and found him an old stove to renovate.

"Just a little thank you for the food you got me," she explained.

"But you paid for that."

"Well, call it a tip for quick service. Anyway, if giving you the stove gets you out of my hair, it'll be worth it."

He was speechless.

"See, if you're nice to people, they'll be nice to you." She bustled off, and he stood staring after her in surprise.

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Finally he finished his mission in the shed. He'd fitted the reconditioned stove under a swept out chimney; plumbed in the sink; put together a bed out of an old frame with some old sofa cushions acting as a mattress. This place would do to live in, and he could gather extras like rugs little by little. It was only the wretched curtains he hadn't organized.

A metallic crash made him jump so he rushed to the window to see a car squashed against a tree, the engine smoking. He hurried outside to the driver's side to find a familiar but tearful figure.

"Lady Edith!" He helped her out of the vehicle and away from danger.

"I've had enough of living at the abbey!" she blurted. "I can't do anything right and I was running away but I can't even do that right." She burst into tears and Thomas looked round for help, but no one else appeared.

He sighed and led her to his new home. He wasn't sure what to do with crying women but a cup of tea sounded like a good idea.

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Lady Edith sipped her tea sitting on the bed, her sobs calming.

"There, there," said Thomas, having heard people say that before. "It can't be as bad as you think." He was sitting on the floor as he hadn't got an arm chair: that was something he must look for.

"But it is!" she quavered, more tears beginning to flow. Thomas cursed inwardly. Why had he said that?

"They all hate me there. Sybil and Mary can do what they like, but whatever I do is wrong, I get told off, or worse than that, ignored. I wish some man would just come along and sweep me off my feet, like Branson with Sybil and- and- so many men with Mary." She was crying even more now and Thomas sighed, looking for a handkerchief.

He hadn't made anything to store his clothes in yet so they were still in suitcases. He searched through his underwear case, keeping his back to Lady Edith so she wouldn't see anything improper. Eventually he found one, man-size but it would have to do. Glancing at her, she was still sobbing, so he gingerly stepped over to her and held out the handkerchief. She was too busy crying to notice so he sat on the bed next to her.

"Oh! Thank you." She took it and dabbed her eyes, blowing her nose and sighing deeply.

"It's hard when everyone hates you, isn't it?" he said.

"Oh, Thomas!" Lady Edith flung her arms round him. "Only someone like you would understand!"

He flinched and recoiled, not cuddling her in return but holding himself away. After a while she realized this.

"Oh gracious, I'm so revolting and ugly even a footman doesn't want me!" She turned away weeping. "I might as well leave, I'm not welcome here. I might as well drive off a cliff." She stood up. "No one would care if I was dead!" She ran to the door, but he followed her, wishing she'd never arrived but he couldn't let her kill herself.

"It's not you, my lady, it's me."

"What?" She glared at him.

"I- I'm not one for the ladies."

"What?"

"I mean, I prefer gentlemen." He braced himself for her reaction.

"What? You prefer- gentlemen as friends, not ladies?"

"No. More than that. I can't explain."

She kept silent, chewing her lip.

"So, if I was a man, you'd have- er- comforted me?"

"I'm afraid so."

She paused again, head on one side like a robin, thinking.

"No wonder you keep to yourself and people don't trust you."

He sighed.

"Sorry to be so rude. But people don't understand those of us who don't fit in."

"What d'you mean?"

"I'm not pretty and popular so I'm unlikely to get married like my sisters will. So I'm ignored and criticized. And people don't understand you, so they do the same to you."

He was shocked by her insight.

"So, do you live here now?"

"Yes. I want to set up a business."

"Doing what?"

"Odd jobs. I did this place up myself." He looked round proudly.

"Can I stay here? I won't try and cuddle you again." She blushed.

"You can. That's alright. We must do something about your car though, my lady."

"You'd better call me Edith. I'll reverse it out of the tree, but I don't know how to mend it. Branson took it all in his stride, but the new chauffeur would run straight to father."

They went outside and Edith did as she said, with much grinding of gears and tortured engine noises.

"I can't drive it back to the Abbey in this condition. Father will be furious. Do you know anything about engines?"

Thomas shook his head.

"But I know a man who does." He smiled, pleased to have an excuse to go back to the house in the woods.


	7. Chapter 7

**It's all kicking off in this story now too… Be prepared. Thanks for all the reviews and supportive comments.**

The mansion looked different to a few weeks ago: deserted with shuttered windows and a locked up appearance. Damn. The gang must have abandoned it, probably fearing discovery.

Thomas cautiously edged across the garden towards it, growing more confident as he walked. As expected every door was locked. The blinds and curtains at every window were closed and there was no sign of life anywhere.

So he turned to leave, then was promptly hit over the head.

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Waking up tied to a chair in an empty, dimly lit room, he realized he must be inside the mansion.

"I knew you couldn't keep away, Barrow!" snarled a voice. Knuckles appeared from behind him, armed with a gun as usual. Thomas wondered if he took it to bed with him as he'd never seen him without it.

"You made a big mistake coming back. This'll be the last place you see." He strutted about in front of his prisoner.

The door opened again and in walked Yevgeny, all in black as usual. He gave Thomas a quick glance but then looked away.

"You want more of what you got last time you were here?" asked Knuckles, nodding towards Yevgeny.

Thomas didn't know how to answer that, especially as the blond Russian, standing out of Knuckles' eye line, winked.

"He's been known to kill people you know."

"I can imagine." Thomas smirked.

"Think this is funny do you Barrow?" shouted Knuckles, waving the gun. "We know you know something and we're going to get it out of you!"

He approached Thomas and put the gun against his head.

"One minute," said Yevgeny, and left the room.

Knuckles sneered in Thomas's face and the ex footman gulped.

Yevgeny returned holding a large curved knife with a well-worn handle.

"See!" mocked Knuckles. "He's got the equipment."

"He sure has."

"Let me take over." Yevgeny pushed Knuckles out of the way and held the knife to Thomas's throat.

A bang followed by loud crackles outside the room made everyone jump.

"Go see what that is," said Yevgeny and Knuckles hastened out.

Immediately, he took the knife away from Thomas's neck.

"That was lucky."

"It was not. I set off fire crackers."

"How clever."

"Now I untie you." He knelt down next to him.

"You sure you want to untie me? You could leave me like this and have your wicked way with me. Again."

"There's no time for that." He grinned. "I must help you escape."

He cut through the ropes tying Thomas's wrists so he stretched his arms, the bones clicking after so much time restrained. Then Yev moved round to his ankles.

"While you're down there," Thomas said innocently.

"You are very bad man." His smile belied his words.

He cut the ropes and Thomas stood up, shaking his feet out to rid them of pins and needles. He stepped up to Yev and hugged him, stroking his short blond hair.

"Thank god you're here and it's not just that cuckoo."

"Why did you come back? It was foolish."

Gazing into the blue eyes, Thomas couldn't remember the reason for a minute.

"Oh yes. I need help with my friend's car. You know about engines don't you?"

"Don't you know anyone else?"

"Yes, but I wanted to see you."

Yevgeny smiled and kissed him for a long time.

"Oi!" shouted Knuckles. They hadn't heard him coming back. "You disgusting faggots! Yev, what are you doing?"

Yevgeny stood up and walked threateningly towards him.

"Keep away from me! What is this? Some queer orgy?" Knuckles screwed up his nose.

Thomas watched, not sure what was going to happen, then Knuckles suddenly turned the gun on him.

"No one'll miss you, you nance!" He moved his finger to pull the trigger, but Yevgeny grabbed his wrist and they wrestled with the gun for a few moments. Thomas stepped forward, then back, his hands in fists.

The gun went off and Yevgeny dropped to the floor.

Thomas gasped and so did Knuckles, but Thomas recovered more quickly, leapt towards him and punched him to the floor.

Then he turned to the motionless body of Yevgeny. Blood stained the side of his head and Thomas gulped, feeling tears at the back of his eyes.

He couldn't leave him here; god knows what Knuckles would do when he woke up. He curled his hands under Yev's armpits and dragged his body to the door, slowly and carefully. Why the hell had he come back here? Wanting to see Yev had just got the poor bloke killed.

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He paused when he got as far the woods, his heart pounding, feeling sick and terrified. How had he dragged a well-built body like that so far? Yev lay there in a heap and Thomas cursed Knuckles. He'd make him pay for killing the Russian, if it was the last thing he did. He'd make him wish he'd never done it, even if they put him in prison for murder. A tear ran down his cheek.


	8. Chapter 8

**I couldn't leave the story like that before Christmas, could I?**

Thomas sat in the woods near Yev's motionless body, sharpening a stick with his penknife. He didn't know why he was doing it, his mind was just full of dark thoughts and it made him feel better. If he met Knuckles again, he had a vague idea he could use it as a weapon. Whatever happened, he would make Knuckles suffer for what he'd done. He dug the stick into the ground and it went deep into the earth easily, like a knife.

But he couldn't leave Yev here alone, he'd have to take him somewhere. He pondered this thought, trying not to get upset til he'd made a plan.

A cough made him jump and he looked round. So, Knuckles had found him. He must have left an obvious trail dragging Yev along, so it would have been easy. He set his jaw, feeling the cold certainty of a fight to the death approaching.

All went quiet and Knuckles did not appear, but there was another cough so he looked in the other direction. Had Yev just moved?

Thomas crawled forward cautiously, not wanting to stand up in case anyone was lurking, waiting to shoot him.

Yev lifted his head and coughed again so Thomas flung himself down next to him.

"I- I thought you were d- dead," he faltered, tears starting to slide down his cheeks.

"No. Bullet only grazed my head. Must have knocked me out." He smiled, gingerly touching the wound.

Thomas slumped with relief, his heart pounding.

"I d-dragged you all the way from the house. Why didn't you wake up?"

"Must have been in shock. It happens." He smiled, wiping Thomas's tears away with his thumb.

"I'm some useless medic if I c-can't tell if someone's dead or not."

"That doesn't matter. Thanks for getting me away from that bastard."

Thomas smiled, gently patting Yev's arm.

"But we need to get further away from him. I only knocked him out, I didn't kill him, unfortunately."

"You knocked him out?" He laughed. "Good."

#####

They only made it nearly to the road before Yev had to rest. Although Thomas was helping him walk, he felt so woozy and sick he couldn't keep going.

But Thomas's mind had been working overtime.

"Can you hide somewhere? I've got a plan to get you out of here."

"Okay. I'm used to hiding."

"What if Knuckles comes along?"

"I could break his neck with one hand, don't worry."

"Er- yeah. Stay here then. Don't die, will you?"

"I'll try not to."

They kissed, then Thomas hastened off.

#####

Getting to the edge of the wood, he kept well away from the guard post and struggled through the barbed wire, not caring about scratches. He jogged along the road: it seemed an endless journey but after an hour, he was back at the shed. Evening drew on and his heart was in his mouth, hoping.

Opening the door, no lights were on so he lit the gas lamp and held it up. With relief, he noticed Edith asleep in bed, so he hurried over to her and shook her arm gently.

"Wake up! I need your help."

She turned over, bleary eyed.

"What? Wh-"

"My friend's in trouble. We need a car to rescue him."

"B- but- father's car is broken, I-"

"We'll have to- er- borrow one."

She sat up, still fully dressed of course.

"What happened to your friend?"

"He was shot, now he can't walk. Hurry up!"

"Shot? With a gun?"

"No, with a cucumber. Of course with a gun."

"Gracious!" She straightened her clothes and swung her legs off the bed.

#####

Pleased to be needed, Edith sauntered down the road with Thomas, trying to look casual. She even had her hand through his arm, so they would appear to any observer like a young couple out for an evening stroll.

"What about that one?" muttered Thomas in her ear.

"No starter handle. I'd need keys."

They carried on a little way.

"Now that one's better." She nodded her head towards a car parked away from any buildings, looking abandoned but not neglected.

"Righto. You start it, I'll keep a look out."

Edith hastened to the vehicle and pumped the handle at the front. No response.

"Hurry," hissed Thomas as a light went on in a nearby window.

She worked the handle again and it started! So they climbed in quickly.

"Tell me where we're going." Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Out of the village. Take the road to Charthwaite." He pointed and they set off towards Yev's location.

**Well, you didn't think I'd kill Yev off and upset Thomas did you? Not before Christmas, I'm not that mean.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hope readers like this chapter, I'd love some more reviews! Its quite a long chapter.**

The car spluttered and jerked along the road.

"This is the most difficult vehicle I've ever driven, the gearbox is mangled," hissed Edith as she struggled to change gear. Her heart was pounding with excitement however, at the departure from her everyday life. Driving along at night with a notorious footman to rescue a mysterious man- she'd never done anything like it.

"We're nearly there, don't worry."

Thomas peered into the darkness, hoping he could remember where he'd left Yev. Was that the turning to the mansion? He shone his old beaten up flashlight onto it. Yes!

"Stop!"

The car ground to a halt after a few minutes.

"Why couldn't you have stopped sooner? Now we're more likely to be caught walking along," grumbled Thomas, sliding out of the car.

"I did my best."

"Stay here and I'll go and get him."

"Are you mad? I'm not staying here alone in the middle of nowhere."

"Hurry up then."

They slipped off into the darkness, Thomas guiding her by the arm.

#####

In the woods, there was no light at all and they stumbled over roots and leaves everywhere, the faint flashlight not enough to avoid them.

"Where is he then?" whispered Edith.

"Just along here." He was desperately hoping he could find him.

"You don't know, do you?"

He stopped.

"He's an expert at hiding. I'll have to just shout."

"Alright."

"YEV!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "It's me!"

There was silence for a minute, then a voice spoke very close to them.

"I'm here."

Thomas and Edith jumped violently and clutched each other as the Russian appeared from the bushes.

"You are hopeless at being quiet. I've watched you for five minutes."

"Why didn't you bloody tell us then?"

"It was funny. Sorry." He eyed Edith. "Who is this?"

"Edith," she said. "And you are?"

"Are you getting me out of here?" Yev asked Thomas.

"Yes. Come on." He took his arm and they turned back to the road, Edith scurrying behind them.

#####

Back at the shed after a nervous drive home, Yev was far less self-assured. He was half asleep and quite pale as Thomas helped him back from where they left the 'borrowed' car.

"I s'pose he should go to bed, shouldn't he?" Thomas asked Edith. "That's what we did at the hospital wasn't it? When they had concussion?"

"Er- yes, I think so. You know better than I." She went to arrange the covers and plump up the pillow, then Thomas guided Yev to the bed and he flopped down, falling asleep at once.

"I'll stay up with him to make sure he keeps breathing." Thomas took off his coat and sat on the floor next to the bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor." Edith fetched some spare blankets from the shelf, threw one to Thomas then made a nest for herself.

"You can't sleep there! You're a lady."

"I'd rather sleep here than back at home." She set her jaw and turned her back on him, curling up on her makeshift bed. "They don't care about me, so this is better."

Thomas shrugged.

"Wake me up so I can take a turn and you can get some sleep," she said over her shoulder.

"Okay." He didn't intend to though.

#####

A hand on Thomas's arm woke him and he jumped.

"My turn," whispered Edith.

He'd slumped against the bed still holding Yev's hand.

"A good way of checking if he's still alive," said Edith nodding at this.

"Why aren't you shocked?"

She shrugged. "You've been kinder to me lately than any of my family. I'm not going to judge you. Now go over there and sleep properly, I'll keep watch."

Thomas smiled gratefully and got up with aching neck and shoulders after sitting there for so long.

Edith took his place after checking Yev was breathing. She wondered who this mysterious blond man was and why Thomas had rescued him. Well, she knew **why **he'd rescued him, but what or who from?

#####

In the morning, Edith was bleary eyed with fatigue, but Yev woke up with a start, surprised to find he was holding hands with a woman he didn't know.

"Where am I?" he demanded, shaking off her hand and sitting up.

"In Thomas's shed- er- home." She reminded him of how he'd arrived there.

"Ah yes." He looked at Thomas, still sleeping hunched up on the floor. "How you know him?"

"He used to work for my family. As a footman."

"Oh. What is footman?"

"Like- like a butler. A manservant. A lackey."

"Oh! Лакей! I understand!"

They laughed awkwardly.

"What's going on?" mumbled Thomas, rubbing his eyes. "I see you've introduced yourselves."

"Yes," said Edith. "We must get curtains if we're all sleeping here. It's far too early to be awake."

"You can sort those out then."

"Although if you are lackey, you should do it," said Yev, straight faced.

"What are you on about now?" Thomas straightened his clothing irritably while Edith giggled. "Don't think you should be making fun seeing as I rescued you."

"Quite right." Edith sat up straight. "I beg your pardon. Good morning, Mr Barrow, I hope you slept well."

"No, bloody awful."

"I'm sorry to say I did too. Whereas Mr-" She turned to him.

"Yevgeny."

"-slept like the proverbial top."

Edith and Yev were both giggling and Thomas sighed.

"We need to sort his Lordship's car out." He put his coat on.

This ended Edith's amusement.

"Yes, or they will come looking for it and take me back."

"Ah, you and your Lordships and class structure in this country," said Yev, shaking his head. "You need to rise up against them, and-"

"We do. But we need to get rid of this car first." Thomas pulled him off the bed. "Put your mechanic hat on."

"I have no mechanic hat, I-"

But Thomas led his accomplices outside to where the Crawleys' car was hidden beneath a canvas cover. Yev was unable to resist a problem like a broken engine, rolled up his sleeves and set to work.


	10. Chapter 10

**I wrote a really long chapter, then decided to halve it and put the rest in the next chapter, hope this isn't boring.**

After a few hard tugs, Yev pulled the car's crumpled bonnet open. Muttering to himself, he peered into the engine, fiddling with a bit here, a part there, his rolled up sleeves revealing his muscular forearms.

Edith and Thomas leaned on the side of the shed, watching him. He frowned, twisting something in the engine and cursed.

"You have tools?" he asked Thomas.

"Yeah." He handed his cigarette to Edith and went off into the shed to get them.

"This is your father's car?" Yev asked her.

"Yes. He won't be pleased I crashed it."

"Do not worry, I will mend." He smiled.

Thomas returned with his tool bag and handed it to Yev, then retrieved his cigarette and resumed leaning on the shed.

Yev put the tools on the floor and got to work again. His hair was definitely blond now it was growing out of its crew cut.

"I can see why you like him," whispered Edith.

Thomas laughed.

"Luckily, he likes me too."

"Having a nice talk, you ladies?" asked Yev crossly. "While I do all work?"

Thomas moved away from the shed.

"I ain't no lady." He went to look into the engine, but so did Edith and they jostled each other.

"Spanner," said Yev.

Thomas triumphantly reached the spanner first and handed it to him, smirking at Edith.

Yev adjusted something with it, then gave it back.

"Screwdriver."

This time, Edith spotted the correct tool first, pushing Thomas out of the way to get it. He chuckled. Yev ignored them and tightened the bonnet screws.

"Verigauge."

The two observers exchanged glances.

"A what?" they said in unison.

Muttering darkly in Russian, Yev bent down to pick up the correct tool.

"Some use you two are."

Thomas and Edith looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

After more adjustments to the engine, Yev beat the bonnet back into shape with a hammer, and shut it.

"Have you told your parents where you are?" asked Thomas of Edith.

"No. I suppose I'd better take the car back and tell them."

"They'll have been worried about you, y'know."

"Maybe. Can I drive this now?" she asked Yev.

"Yes, it's fine."

She climbed slowly into the car and started it up, her mouth turned down at the corners.

"Good luck," said Yev, shutting the door.

The two men watched the car driving slowly down the narrow alley and turning into the village high street.

"How long will she be gone?" Yev asked.

"Dunno. An hour, maybe two."

He raised an eyebrow at Thomas.

#####

Edith drove up to the garage and parked. Could she face going up to the house? Wouldn't it be better to just leave the car with a note or something? She didn't have a pen or paper in her handbag- why hadn't she thought of that? She'd just have to leave it as it was.

"Lady Edith!" said a voice and she turned to see Davies, the replacement for Branson. "We've all been so worried. Where have you been?"

"None of your business. I'm going to see my parents." She flounced off towards the house.

#####

Carson met her in the hall.

"L-lady Edith," he stuttered, the first time she'd ever seen him lost for words. "Please come at once to the library. Your parents have been frantic. Especially since-"

"Since what?"

"Please follow me." He breezed off towards the library.

But they had been overheard.

"Darling!" cried Lady Grantham, hurrying from the drawing room. "Where have you been?" She flung her arms round her daughter and Edith was enveloped in a cloud of Chanel.

Lord Grantham strode up from his study.

"We've had people out looking. How dare you worry your mother like that? And then someone saw you with-"

"Not now, Robert! Darling, come into the library."

#####

Edith perched on a chair in front of her parents.

"You were seen walking with- with Thomas!" said her father. "Arm in arm the other evening."

"Yes. I'm living with him."

"What!" Her parents exclaimed in unison.


	11. Chapter 11

**Edith is very innocent, isn't she? But I suppose ladies were in those days. **

**So nearly slipped into an M rating here, but managed to control myself!**

"Living with Thomas? Unmarried?" Her parents eyes and mouths were round as O's.

"Yes. And not likely to get married." She found it hard not to smile. She wouldn't marry Thomas but not for the reason her parents thought.

"You're not- not- expecting- are you dear?" asked her mother.

"No. Definitely not."

"But, darling, your reputation. Living with a footman. It's not the done thing."

"My reputation is quite, quite safe Mama. You don't need to worry about that. I just came to tell you I'm fine, and you have no need to worry."

"Won't you come back and stay with us? We've been so worried."

"Have you? I never knew anyone noticed I existed."

"W-what?"

"I've always been completely overlooked. Mary and Sybil are the favourite daughters, aren't they? Their problems have always been more important, whereas I'm just 'good old Edith, always there'!"

Her cheeks red, she stopped for breath.

"Darling!" Lady Grantham began to cry. "We love you as much as the other girls."

"Well it doesn't seem that way. Are you surprised when I go off to find people who actually like me for myself?"

"People?"

"I want to be more independent."

"Won't you stay for lunch at least?"

Edith paused.

"There will always be enough food for you, we can organize a special lunch."

"Very well. But I haven't anything to change into." And she realized she'd only had a basic wash since moving in with Thomas. "Could I have a bath?"

"Of course, darling. I'll get O'Brien to organize it."

#####

Edith sat alone in her old bedroom, waiting for the bath to be ready.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of Mary.

"Are you really alright? Not in trouble?" she asked.

"What do you care?"

"I do. First Sybil runs off with Branson, now you with Thomas. I have no sisters left to talk to."

Edith shrugged.

"Perhaps you should have been nicer to me when I was here."

Mary looked away.

"But Thomas! Of all people! He's an evil man."

"He is not! He's not what people think. People just don't understand him."

"Hm. Well tell him from me, if he mistreats you, the whole Crawley family will make him pay."

"Gracious. Anyone would think you cared about me."

"I do! The war made me realize petty things aren't important."

The sisters stared at each other.

"Lady Edith?" O'Brien bustled in. "Your bath's ready."

#####

After a nourishing but awkward lunch with her family, Edith returned home - she smiled to think of it as home- to find the door locked.

"Hello?" She knocked gently. Had Thomas and Yev left? A tremor of fear ran through her stomach- had they been planning to get rid of her all along? Was she now alone and friendless after all her grand pronouncements to her family?

After a few minutes however, Thomas opened the door, buttoning up his shirt.

"Sorry." He stood in the doorway.

"Can I come in?"

He glanced into the room and back at her.

"Yes." He stood aside to let her in.

"Why have you put a blanket up at the window? It's so dark in here now."

"Er- it was too light in here." Thomas smoothed down his hair and went to take the blanket down.

Yev was sitting on the bed, putting his boots on and blinking at the sudden brightness. The bed covers were in disarray- Edith thought that was strange as she'd made the bed that morning.

"What did your parents say?" asked Thomas.

She recounted the meeting, omitting the conversation with Mary.

"Wow. So they know everything now."

"Not everything. I didn't mention Yev, as he's hiding from his gang."

"Good girl."

#####

That night, Thomas and Yev insisted Edith slept in the comfortable bed while they slept on blankets on the floor, so everyone took ages to get to sleep. Edith's mind kept running over and over the conversation with her family, and her companions kept giggling or arguing about who had taken the blankets or who had elbowed who.

They all awoke at dawn. The blanket at the window had fallen down in the night, allowing the early morning light to stream in.

"This is ridiculous," said Edith. "We can't sleep like this."

"I've had an idea," replied Thomas, smugly. "We'll go back to the mansion and nick some curtains and maybe a mattress."

"B-but isn't it dangerous? Aren't there criminals there?" Edith quavered.

"Doubt it. It's been abandoned. We'll go there when we've got dressed." He smiled. Anything was better than sleeping on floorboards again. And who knows what else would be available to take?

#####

"Is this the mansion?" Edith commented as the trio emerged from the woods.

"Yep," replied Thomas. "We're going to have to get a car if we keep coming up here." He was a little out of breath.

"It's rather small. Not a quarter of Downton."

"Better than my shed though. Sorry if it's not good enough for you!"

"Be quiet you two." Yev assessed the surroundings, not believing the gangsters had left. But there were no signs of life.

"Right," whispered Thomas. "We'll go in, get some curtains and whatever else we need, then go."

Yev still had a key so they tiptoed inside.

All was silent.

"Which curtains you want?" asked Yev of Thomas.

"Hold your horses, I don't know yet." He looked round with interest.

"My horses?"

"He means don't be in such a hurry," explained Edith.

Thomas was standing in the hall, a smile growing on his face.

"Uh oh, he's thinking of something," said Yev, rolling his eyes at Edith.

"I am. We just need to make sure no one's here. Yev, you search where the workers used to be." He set off jauntily up the stairs.

Yev and Edith exchanged glances.

"What's he thinking?"

"Who knows?" she said. "I'll search through here." She went through a door, hoping she hadn't made a mistake in putting on a brave front.

#####

To her dismay, she found the door led to a dirtier area of the mansion, with a bad smell. She opened a door and the stench hit her like a slap. What was that in the middle of the floor? It looked like a-

Realising what it was, she screamed at the top of her voice, fumbled behind her for the door handle and staggered outside.

"What is it?" Yev reached her first. "Stop screaming!"

"It's- I saw a- oh-" She fainted into his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Meanwhile, Thomas was investigating the bedrooms. The largest one had a huge wardrobe in, large enough to hide a man or two. So, picking up the poker from the fire, he advanced on it, and flung open the door. What he saw in there made him gasp!

Quickly going to the other bedrooms, he investigated the wardrobes there too. They all contained the same things: he could not stop grinning.

"Thomas? Thomas!" Yev's voice, so he ran towards it, taking the poker in case of trouble.

#####

"It's Knuckles," Yev said, looking down at the decomposing body. "What happened?"

"I just punched him. Didn't think I killed him." Thomas held his handkerchief over his nose at the smell, but it didn't seem to bother Yev.

"He must have struck his head on that." He pointed to the fireguard, sitting black and menacing by the fireplace.

"Shit. But he deserved it! I thought he'd killed you." He gazed into Yev's eyes.

"Thank you. But we need to bury him. He smells."

"Hello?" Edith called.

The two men hurried to the hallway where she lay on a sofa.

"W-what's going on?"

"Don't worry, we deal with it," said Yev.

#####

Yev wrapped the body in a couple of blankets as rigor mortis was wearing off and it had begun to decay. When darkness fell, he and Thomas carried the bundle out into the woods.

"I'll dig the hole, you bury him," said Thomas, face white as a sheet.

"Okay. Are you alright?"

"Yep. I'm fine. I killed a couple of men in the war, b- but that was with a gun."

He dug in silence, the half full moon providing a weak light. He couldn't help himself looking at the bundle to see if it moved.

At last the hole was finished.

"He is dead, isn't he? I don't want to bury him alive."

"It's okay. He is dead."

They threw the body into the grave and began filling it in.

"Shouldn't we- y'know- say something? As we're burying him?" asked Thomas.

"Listen." Yev took him by the shoulders. "You killed him defending me. Don't blame yourself. You say something if you want, but don't feel guilty."

Thomas thought for a minute.

"Wherever you've gone, Knuckles, I hope it's the place you deserve. Rest in peace."

Yev smiled to himself and patted him on the shoulder.

#####

"Shall we go home now?" asked Yev when they returned to the house, washed their hands and had a stiff whiskey or two.

"Through the woods?" asked Edith. "It's all- dark and lonely out there."

Thomas suddenly remembered his discoveries upstairs.

"Let's stay here the night. I want to show you something."

Yev and Edith followed him.

"Look at this!" He flung open the wardrobe door in the largest bedroom, pointing the flashlight inside.

"It's- clothes," said Edith, stepping forward.

"Hundreds of them. And look." He showed her a few of the dresses.

"Chanel. Lanvin. Schiaparelli," she murmured, examining them.

"What?" asked Yev.

"These are designer clothes. They would make us a fortune if we sold them," said Thomas, grinning from ear to ear.

"What are they doing here?" asked Edith.

They turned to Yev.

"Maybe boss stole them. Maybe planning to sell them himself."

"Our lucky night." Thomas tapped his feet happily.

"Well. We have two choices. Sell them bloody quick or keep them for when he comes back for them."

"Comes back?" said Edith.

"He will come back if he wants them. He won't let money go to waste."

"We must sell them then. We'll make millions." Thomas held the flashlight under his chin, making himself look demonic.

"Okay. It will have to be very, very quickly."

"I can do it. I'm good at selling."

#####

That night, they stayed together in one room in a vast double bed, as the generator for the lights was not yet working and they didn't want to be alone in the dark, unfamiliar house. Edith found it hard to sleep with a man snoring either side of her. What would her parents think if they saw her now? Even though they were all fully dressed of course.

But the idea of selling the clothes appealed to her. She'd never been interested in dresses, but making money would solve all her problems.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry if you thought I'd finished that story on such a low key note, I haven't.**

The next morning, Edith woke up and found herself alone. The smell of porridge rose from downstairs and she snuggled down in the bed. Perhaps Thomas would bring her breakfast in bed. The smell gradually became burnt so she got up impatiently. Thomas and Yev had probably forgotten about it and gone off somewhere, leaving it to her, as the woman.

She strode into the kitchen but stopped abruptly. They were both in the kitchen but kissing passionately against the wall. She coughed loudly, but they didn't seem to hear.

Sighing, she went to the stove. Was it her destiny to always be surrounded by happy couples but never find love herself? She stirred the porridge violently.

"Boys!" she snapped. "You can't just leave it to cook! You have to stir it."

At this, they jumped and moved apart.

"Sorry," they said in unison, exchanging guilty glances.

"Get some bowls," Edith ordered, her stomach rumbling.

They all sat down at the table.

"So. We need a plan." Thomas's eyes were shining, he was in his element. "We'll move in here and sell the clothes. We shouldn't sell them from here though, it's too obvious. We'll have to get a car or van and take them to markets or other places."

"He's been thinking about this," said Yev to Edith.

"We can get a lot of money for the designer stuff," Thomas continued, ignoring them. "We'll have to secure this place better, maybe get some guard dogs."

"Dogs!" exclaimed Edith. "I'll look after them, I always wanted my own."

"They will be guard dogs, you cannot treat them well," warned Yev.

"But-"

"Anyway," interrupted Thomas. "After breakfast we can choose which bedrooms we want, that'll be the fun bit. I think there's about ten upstairs."

"Should we have bedrooms close together, for security? Or far apart, a wing of the house each?" asked Edith.

"Because me and Thomas argue too loudly?" said Yev, smiling.

"I'm not sharing a room with you," said Thomas. "I'm having my own room, thank you very much."

"Be like that then. Edith, let's go and choose." Yev led Edith out of the room, smiling to himself.

"Where will you get a van?" she asked as they went up the stairs.

"I know people, don't worry. About anything."

Edith chose a room painted duck egg blue, overlooking the lawn and facing south so the sun would shine in most of the day. A brightly lit room suited her, as she was the happiest she'd ever been, despite having no gentlemen friends.

Yev decided on an east facing room, decorated in minimalist white, so the sun would wake him up every morning. It also looked out over the drive, so he could see anyone approaching the house.

#####

A week later, the business was in full swing. Yev had acquired a van, telling the other two not to ask where he'd got it. Thomas and Edith drove to various markets with the dresses, suits and shirts, places where Thomas knew selling things was easy. They made sure not to stay too long or have a regular round, to avoid detection, but inevitably word got around.

Yev stayed behind to guard the manor, and enjoyed being a householder for once. Having led a mercenary life, it was relaxing to stay in one place and spend time mending the generator, broken furniture or tools and growing vegetables in the garden patch he'd dug out. He remembered his childhood, being taught to grow plants by his father at home in Russia, and all the knowledge came back to him in little bits. After being on his own for so many years as an adult, he could cook basic things and as the weather was fairly cold, made vast pans of soup for Edith and Thomas when they came back after selling

Edith visited her parents occasionally, but wouldn't tell them where she lived, merely saying she was very happy and wouldn't come back to them. She felt a little excluded by Thomas and Yev, but nowhere near as excluded as she'd felt at home, by Mary and the rest of the family. Her job was to charm the customers and persuade them to buy the clothes. She'd never been the pretty one at home, so relished her new role.

Thomas was in his element. He wore a fairly shabby suit to sell the designer clothes, not wanting to attract attention, but kept some of the good suits and shirts at home for himself, choosing blacks, navies and dark greys to complement his dark colouring. He liked working out the accounts of their business, virtually rubbing his hands in glee as he added up the takings of every trip.

#####

"I think we should have a party," said Thomas some weeks later. "To celebrate what we've achieved." Wearing a navy suit with a pale violet shirt, he cut a fine figure.

"Who would we invite?" asked Yev, who didn't wear suits as he now didn't have to. He preferred jumpers and jeans.

"People. Amazing how popular me and Edith are now."

"We'll have to buy a gramophone," she said. "I know people who might come to a party. They won't care I'm living with a footman and a- a-"

"Gangster," said Thomas before Yev could speak. "You'll have to wear a suit."

Yev screwed up his nose. "As long as it's black."

"No, there aren't any black ones left, grey would look better on you anyway."

Yev sighed. "Okay."

They continued talking about the party for the next few hours, Thomas and Edith getting terribly excited about it. Even Yev was affected by their enthusiasm.

But none of them knew someone was watching the house from the woods.


	14. Chapter 14

The evening of the party arrived, and Edith was amazed to see at least six cars rolling up the long driveway, which they'd left overgrown so as not to attract attention. She'd asked some of her contacts, who'd been thrilled she was bucking tradition and not living with her family anymore. But she hadn't assumed they'd actually come to the party.

Yev directed the cars into the large outbuilding where the gang had parked their vehicles.

"Jolly spiffing, what?" said a thin, monocled gentlemen, helping four ladies out of his car. "Where's the party, old chap?"

"In the main house," said Yev, suppressing a smile.

The gentleman had a wounded arm, no doubt from the war, and the occupants of the other cars were much the same. Nearly all the men carried injuries from the war, so had looked forward to coming to a party, a lovely distraction from their memories and hardships.

#####

In the house, Edith turned on the new gramophone, but no one danced, just hung around talking and eyeing the decor. She and Thomas made conversation with the other guests, but Yev loitered in the kitchen, unsure of himself. Parties he'd been to before consisted of gambling and drinking, not posh people making conversation.

"So, your parents don't own this place?" asked a dark haired gentleman with a Roman nose.

"No, I've moved away from home," said Edith.

"That's so brave," said his female companion, clutching his arm. "I wish I could get away. Any spare rooms?"

Before Edith could answer, the guard dogs began to bark and didn't stop.

"What the devil-" said her companion, adjusting his tie.

#####

Yev slipped out of the kitchen door. The area around the house was pitch black as it was far from the lights of the village, but his highly trained ears could hear footsteps in the darkness.

Waiting by the side of the conservatory, he wasn't surprised when someone pressed a gun into his ribs. But his instincts hadn't left him and he thrust his elbow back fast as a whip into the man's stomach, whirled round and pushed the gun away. It fired wildly into the air, echoing across the countryside.

"Still the same old Yev," hissed a voice, and he recognised it as one of his former colleagues, so he punched him to the ground. He didn't want him meeting Thomas or Edith, or any of the aristocratic guests. One down, but how many others were lurking? He peered into the darkness, straining his ears. If only they'd chosen a full moon night for the party.

#####

Inside the house, the sound of the shot threw everyone into confusion and they all flung themselves to the floor, clutching each other.

"Switch the lights off!" said someone and the room was plunged into darkness, the only sounds being frightened whimpers of the ladies.

"Edith, where are you?" hissed Thomas.

"Here. Over here."

He crawled towards her, not wanting to stand up and be seen through the window. Who knows what was outside; they might point a flashlight in at any moment.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered.

"Have you still got your army gun?"

"No. but Yev said there's a stash of them in the barn. I'll have to get over there."

"Be careful!" She clutched his hand.

"I'll be okay."

He made his way over people towards the back door and sidled out, creeping round the side of the house. Now how many yards was it to the barn? There was a huge open space between the buildings, how was he going to cross that?

#####

In the house, Edith crawled round to check everyone was okay.

"I'm worried about Biffy," whispered one of the ladies. "He's got terrible shell shock from the war. He can't take anymore noises like that."

Edith patted Biffy on the arm, feeling him shaking.

"I'll b-be alright old g-girl," he mumbled through gritted teeth.

"Here." Edith handed him the bottle of whisky she'd brought with her just in case. "That should help."

Biffy glugged it down.

"Like being back in the trenches, what?" said another man's voice. "Not so loud though."

Another shot rang out and everyone gasped.

#####

Thomas jumped at the sound of the gun and took a deep breath, trying not to panic. It could never be as bad as the trenches. He could either crawl to the barn, which he was loathe to do as he was wearing his favourite suit. Or run as fast as he could, dodging from side to side to avoid being shot, but that would be very risky.

All was quiet but as his eyes adapted to the darkness, he could see two men at the door of the barn who had obviously just shot the lock off. So it was the weapons they were after, not the designer clothes. Or would they shoot their way into the house, get the remaining clothes and kill everyone in the process? He couldn't allow that to happen, so he ran towards them, and was promptly rugby tackled to the ground.


	15. Chapter 15

Edith was determined to find out what was going on outside, so she hurried to the far end of the house, which would give her a better view. She didn't like this part of the building as she had found Knuckles' body there, but she braced herself. It was spookily silent outside as she tiptoed through the rooms with the flashlight.

Her foot caught on something and she felt the floor giving way. Biting her lip to prevent herself screaming, she pulled herself up, then pointed the flashlight down to see what she'd tripped on. To her relief, it was only a trapdoor. Her foot had broken through the rotting wood a little and left a small hole, so she knelt down and shone the light through it. Disembodied voices could be heard but they were so muffled and distorted she couldn't make out what they were saying. Cold air wafted up from the hole, so she shuffled back from it.

#####

Outside, Thomas struggled with his attacker in the darkness, but he both felt and smelled strangely familiar.

"Keep quiet, Tomushka," muttered Yev in his ear.

"Why did you knock me over?" hissed Thomas, stopping resisting.

"Everyone could see you running about."

"Well, I can't just sit around waiting for them to kill us."

Yev sat up suddenly. "I just remembered something. Come with me." They weren't far from the house, so they shuffled back inside, keeping low to the ground.

#####

As Edith peered out of the window, she heard a door creaking. Holding her breath, she hid the flashlight in her bodice and waited.

"It's somewhere here," said a familiar voice.

"What are we looking for?" said another familiar voice.

"Aha! There!"

The sound of a bolt being pulled back.

Edith turned the light in the direction of the voices to reveal Thomas and Yev, both looking dishevelled.

"God Edith! You nearly scared the shit out of me!" said Thomas. "Sorry."

She laughed nervously. "Me too."

"We have to go down here." Yev pointed down the trapdoor.

"Why?" asked Thomas.

"It leads to barn. Hurry." He turned to Edith. "We need flashlight. You go back to party, get all clothes, money and valuables, put them in lounge with guests. Bring some men to trapdoor. We bring back weapons."

"Right."

"Come on." Yev began climbing down the ladder under the trapdoor. "Point light down."

Thomas did as he was told and there was a tense pause.

"It's okay, come on!" Yev called.

"Good luck," whispered Edith.

"You too." Thomas set off down the ladder, the flashlight between his teeth.

#####

Edith followed Yev's instructions, rather enjoying bossing everyone around.

"Bit of armed combat again, what?" said a guest. "Back to the trenches."

"It won't be as bad as that," said another. "How dare these bally intruders ruin our party?"

"That's the spirit, old man."

While Edith organised the men, her friend Poppy took charge of the ladies, who went to gather all the knives and other implements that could be used as weapons.

#####

Yev and Thomas hastened down the underground tunnel. As they got closer to the barn they could hear the gangsters' voices.

"They haven't got in there yet," whispered Yev.

"Thank god you put all those locks on the door."

"I knew they'd be back."

They reached the ladder at the other end.

"I go first," said Yev.

"Good luck." Thomas gave him a quick kiss.

Yev climbed silently up the ladder and eased open the trap door bolts using the knife he kept in his boot. All was quiet in the barn, but outside the gangsters were talking.

"Bloody hell, how many damn locks are on this door?"

"Yev always does that. Even though he's gone soft living here with that fella and that posh bird."

"Where d'you think Knuckles went?"

"Dunno. God, this bloody lock!" He shot at it.

"Yev's going to regret crossing us. We'll get in the house, get the stuff and kill the witnesses."

The sound of hoarse laughter and the creaking of the still resisting barn door.

Yev hurried to grab armfuls of guns, and ammunition boxes, passing them down to Thomas as quickly as he could, almost throwing them.

They both picked up all they could carry and ran back along the passageway, panting with effort.

Edith was waiting at the top of the trap door, pointing another flashlight down the shaft, with five of the male guests. Thomas shoved the guns and ammo upwards, the men grabbed them and hurried back to the lounge.

After a couple of trips, Yev and Thomas had retrieved much as they could, so climbed up the ladder.

"Now, we need to barricade ourselves in lounge and wait," said Yev.

#####

The waiting was nerve wracking, but the men passed the time loading the guns. The war had been useful as despite their injuries, they could handle weapons in the dark. Heavy footsteps ran up and down the stairs, brief snatches of conversation floated into the room.

"Where the fuck is the gear? Thought it was upstairs."

"Bloody Yev's got rid of it."

The guests clutched at each other, trying not to cough or even breathe.

"Hey! This door's locked."

The lounge door handle rattled violently.

"Must be in there."

Thomas recognised the voice of the gang boss. It seemed so long ago since he'd been kidnapped by Knuckles, hauled in front of the boss and taken to Yev to be 'tortured'. He smiled to remember it.

"What do we do?" continued the voice outside the room.

"Break the door down, you moron."

A violent bang on the door made the wood begin to splinter.

"Get ready, everyone," hissed Yev.


	16. Chapter 16

**This chapter is very long and quite grim but lightens towards the end. The story is coming to a conclusion within the next few chapters.**

The door quickly splintered under the attack and flashlights pointed in to the room. Everyone cowered and Edith found herself pushed against a man in a rough tweed jacket.

"Where's our stuff?" shouted a harsh voice. "You owe us, Yev!"

The man pointed the light round the room at pale, frightened faces. The silhouettes of the gangsters moved like ghosts in the half light.

"Give it to us, or we'll kill you!"

"Now!" shouted Yev, and the male guests fired their rifles, almost glad to kill an enemy again.

The force of the blast threw the gangsters backwards, although it was hard to see with only the intermittent light of the torches.

Thomas remembered the hell of the trenches and gritted his teeth. He was firing at the spectres of the Germans, who still haunted his dreams and who'd killed so many of his comrades, directly and indirectly. If it wasn't for them, Edward wouldn't have been blinded, wouldn't have killed himself… But there was no point remembering him. He carried on shooting, hardening his heart.

The blasts of the guns and screams of pain were deafening and Edith put her hands over her ears, still sheltering against the reassuring tweed jacket.

Then abruptly all fell silent. The fast breathing of those left alive was audible, then quiet voices mumbled to their neighbours.

"I will put light on," said Yev. "Prepare yourselves." He switched on the lamps and everyone slowly sat up.

The gangsters' bodies lay in the doorway and out into the hall, in twisted positions of death, blood all over them and the carpet, the walls. The guests had minor wounds but fortunately none were dead.

Shocked silence.

"Well, that was easier than I thought," mused Yev. He turned to see everyone staring at him.

"Easier?" retorted Thomas. "You maniac." He was still shaking, as were the others.

Yev shrugged. "It is- it was- my job. Sorry."

"It's lucky for us you were in charge," piped up Edith. "Otherwise we'd have had no chance." She realised her tweed jacketed protector had moved away and her heart sank. So she stood up and went over to Yev.

"What shall we do with them?" She pointed to the bodies.

Yev smiled down at her, then turned to the guests.

"Gentlemen, we need to move them outside and bury them quickly."

The men slowly got up and shuffled over to check the gangsters were all dead.

"I did this so often in the war," said one. "So many died in the field."

"Yes," agreed another, putting his hands under one of the gangsters' armpits. "Quite like being back there."

"But this time we can relax with a party afterwards."

#####

The men dragged away the bodies, dug graves and slung them in. There were only six of them. They hadn't expected resistance, certainly not what they'd come up against: ex soldiers with grudges.

"That was bloody awful," said Thomas to Yev as they worked together.

"Not really. Done it so often, that wasn't so bad."

"Killing people really doesn't bother you, does it?"

"It's just how life's been for me. No choice."

"You must have had some choice!"

"I didn't. You've had easy life as footman."

"I haven't! It's been hell, then the war too!"

Yev paused as he filled in the earth over the corpse.

"Your life could have been so much worse. You need to grow up."

They continued in silence.

#####

In the house, Edith, Poppy and the other women scrubbed at the blood stains.

"It's rather pointless," said Edith, sitting back on her heels at last.

"Probably better to decorate over it," agreed Poppy. "Your chaps can do that for you."

Edith nodded, still numb.

"Must get the party going again," she muttered, and went into the lounge. She switched on the gramophone and went to fetch the drinks, which had hastily been moved into the kitchen before the confrontation. Sighing, she put them on trays without thinking, still shaking.

"Can I help?" asked a male voice.

She looked up, then did a double take. The man was wearing a tweed jacket, was it the same one who'd protected her earlier? His hair was reddish gold and a goatee beard adorned his chin.

"Jamie, old chap, any idea-" A blood stained guest stumbled in. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Edith. Can you tell me where the bathroom is? Think I need a bit of a wash."

"Of course." Edith stepped towards Jamie, who didn't move out of the way, forcing her to squeeze past him in a most suggestive fashion. She led the guest to the nearest bathroom.

"So sorry to be such a nuisance," said the man. "We showed them what for though, the scoundrels."

"You all did very well," she smiled. "I dread to think what would have happened if-"

He patted her on the arm.

"Put it to the back of your mind, old girl. Best place for it."

She hurried back to the kitchen, but the tweed clad Jamie was no longer there. She sighed, unsurprised. He'd probably seen someone better than her.

#####

The party began again, vastly different to before. People laughed and chattered, drinking everything they could lay their hands on, dancing to the gramophone music. Everyone was cuddling everyone else, smiling broadly and Edith found her glass refilled more times than she could count.

The new dance music- was it called the Charleston- was very frenetic, she thought as she sat on a large cushion on the floor, watching guests jiggling around to it. So many couples were kissing too: in chairs, on sofas, even on the floor. She didn't know where to look, so concentrated on the dancers, who weren't quite as lustful as the others. What would her parents think if they could see her in such a situation?

She was relieved to see Thomas carefully picking his way towards her through the amorous couples.

"Alright?" he asked, grinning and flopping down on a nearby cushion.

"Yes, fine, are you?"

"Yep. Yev's locked all the doors so we're safe."

"Where is he anyway?"

They looked round to see him talking to very handsome young man who was smiling adoringly at him. Thomas frowned and tried to get up, which was more difficult than he thought.

"Stay here," hissed Edith. "Don't act jealous, you'll make a fool of yourself. Trust me, I know."

Thomas slumped back down again, sticking his bottom lip out.

She tugged at his sleeve. "Tell me, which of these gentlemen would like me, do you think?"

He glanced round the room.

"What about those two by the mantelpiece?"

"What two?"

"There. Look like blond twins."

"There's only one man by the mantelpiece. What's wrong with you? You're seeing double."

"Nothing's wrong with me. Hic!" He giggled.

This seemed incredibly funny to Edith and she giggled too.

"Let's both smile at him and see what happens," she suggested. So they did and the chap made his way over to them.

"So, do you own this house?" he asked Thomas.

"Sort of. I'm a man of property now." He couldn't resist boasting.

"You'll have to show me round." The man raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Okay." Thomas got up and went off with him, shrugging at Edith.

Edith turned away. Yet again, the attractive brunette gets all the attention, she thought. Story of her life.

But before she could sulk, a man appeared in front of her.

"Would you like to dance, Lady Edith?"

He looked familiar, so she nodded and got up.

#####

The Charleston was a difficult dance, especially when tipsy. Edith wiggled around with her new admirer, laughing helplessly. The other dancers were in the same condition, falling over and giggling.

After a while though, she began to feel ill.

"I need to sit down, some fresh air," she told her companion.

"Of course." He led her out of the French windows to the balcony. The guests had forgotten to worry about lurking gangsters and spilled out into the garden. She sat down weakly on a chair.

"Let me get you a glass of water," he suggested, and set off unsteadily.

The balcony, the furniture and the night sky all seemed blurred and fuzzy, she couldn't think properly.

"May I sit here?" asked a dark haired man with a narrow moustache. Without waiting for a reply, he flopped down in the chair next to her.

"Simon Barclay. Must say Lady Edith, I never knew you had it in you to throw such a top hole bash, what?"

She giggled.

"You've always been the prettiest of the Crawley sisters, I must say." He was sitting very close to her, gazing into her eyes.

"Oi!" barked a voice. The first man returned, with a glass of water. "Lady Edith is my companion, not yours, Barclay." He set down the drink forcefully on the wrought iron table.

"You should pay her more attention then, McGregor!"

The men leapt towards each other, fists raised.

Edith's jaw dropped. Two men fighting over her? Was she dreaming?


	17. Chapter 17

**This is the final chapter, alas! Really enjoyed writing it, but its come to an end :-( Please review if you can, I've been feeling rather lonely lately with this story.**

Edith watched in surprise as Simon Barclay and Jamie McGregor took wild swings at each other, both unsteady and erratic.

"Leave her alone!" shouted Barclay. "You stole my last lady friend!"

"Stop your havering! She wanted me more!" retorted McGregor.

They continued trying to punch each other, then Barclay lurched over to Edith and took her hand. "You're so beautiful Lady Edith," he slurred.

"Gerroff!" McGregor took her other hand, lifting her from the seat. They pulled her between them like dogs with a rag doll, making her feel more and more ill.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" roared a voice, and they all turned to see Thomas in the doorway to the lounge. Lit from behind by the sitting room lamps, he looked demonic.

"Get your hands off my-"

"Sister," supplied Edith quickly. She'd always wanted a brother.

"Sister!" He sprang forward, glaring at the men and they staggered back. "Don't treat her like that!"

There was a shocked pause in the party guests' conversation for a moment, then talking started again.

Edith's two suitors staggered away shamefacedly and she fell into Thomas's arms.

"Bloody idiots. Are you alright?" He set her away from him. She nodded, then was promptly sick over his new shoes. Gasping in horror and embarrassment, she stumbled backwards. How undignified! How could she do such a thing?

But he laughed, took his shoes off and threw them over the balcony.

"I say, what?" shouted a voice. "Bloody well look where you're throwing things!"

"Come on," Thomas said to Edith, ignoring the complaint. "You need to rest."

"Why is your shirt undone?" she asked in a slurred voice.

"Er- no reason." But he struggled to do it up.

He helped her into the lounge and they made their way through the dancing, kissing, eating, drinking, laughing guests.

#####

They somehow staggered up to Edith's room and Thomas helped her into bed. Luckily there was a jug of water on the bedside table so he poured some into a glass for her, almost falling over in the process.

Edith snuggled down in bed and fell immediately asleep. He smiled and tiptoed out, shutting the door.

"Why you in Edith's room?" said Yev, who was standing nearby frowning.

"She's drunk. Ill. I was just putting her to bed."

"Then why your shirt done up wrong?"

"You can talk! Chatting up that bloke earlier!"

"But I saw you with that other man. Looks like we both had good time."

They glared at each other.

"None of it means anything though, does it?" Thomas was too tired and drunk to argue.

He stepped towards Yev and kissed him sloppily, almost missing his mouth. "Let's just go to bed and leave the others to sort themselves out."

They stumbled off to Thomas's bedroom, which was the furthest from the noise of the party. It was also the most comfortable as the ex footman had filled it with all the things he'd missed out on during his life as a servant, such as feather pillows, a satin eiderdown and luxurious rugs.

#####

The next day, the house remained silent until midday, when people began to wake up. Some had slept in bedrooms, some on sofas and some just on the floor.

Edith awoke, her mouth dry as sand so she was very grateful for the glass of water left by Thomas. She'd never experienced a social occasion like that before: most were dull and conventional, ruled over by her parents, or circling suitors of Mary.

Slowly, carefully, she climbed out of bed, ran herself a bath in her ensuite bathroom and got dressed. By the time she'd finished, it was early afternoon, so she crept downstairs. Party guests greeted her with smiles; they all looked pale and red eyed but definitely happy.

"Oh, sorry!" She bumped into a man, then gave him a second look.

"Don't mention it." He swept past, jogging her elbow roughly, but didn't apologise.

She hesitated. Wasn't that Simon Barclay from last night? He obviously didn't think much of her now. Biting her lip, she went into the kitchen to make a sandwich and get more water.

#####

Thomas emerged from his bedroom in search of food while Yev still slept. At last reaching the kitchen, he saw Edith sitting chewing a sandwich.

"Sleep well?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

She nodded.

"Lady Edith," said a voice and they both turned to see Jamie McGregor, dishevelled in the doorway.

"What do you want?" snarled Thomas.

"I wanted to- to apologise for my behaviour last night." Jamie put his hands in his pockets, then took them out and put them behind his back uncertainly.

"Yeah? Didn't you realise how ill she was?" Thomas stepped up to him, muzzy in the head and not in the mood to forgive lightly. "You made her sick giving her all those drinks."

"Oh- it's alright Thomas," interrupted Edith, blushing at the memory of the shoe incident.

"I- I wondered if you'd like to- come away with me to a picnic this afternoon?" He looked past Thomas at Edith. "To make up for it."

"Where would you take her?" demanded Thomas, taking a swig of his water.

"The Downs? It's a bonny place."

"I don't think so. We hardly know you. You could do anything to her."

Edith smiled to herself. She'd never imagined Downton's scheming footman could be so gallant. Jamie and Thomas glared at each other, neither willing to give in.

"We could picnic in the grounds of this house," suggested Edith. "Then you can keep an eye on us, Thomas."

He turned to her.

"You could."

Yev appeared in the doorway.

"What is happening?" He glared at Jamie, who flinched. Edith explained.

"I do need to make myself more presentable," said Jamie. "Where is the bathroom?"

"I will show you." Yev led him off, disapproval radiating from him like a beacon.

"Are you sure about this?" Thomas demanded of Edith.

"What are you, my father?" she laughed, secretly enjoying this protectiveness. Who else had ever bothered to defend her honour? Mary had always been the one to get all the attention, causing scandal after scandal, as had Sybil. Whereas she, the uninteresting middle daughter, had only ever wanted her parents' approval. But never got it.

"Thought I was your brother?" Thomas smiled in his usual condescending way but there was genuine concern showing through.

She smiled back, not sure what to say.

#####

The other guests were slowly leaving the scene of the dramatic events of last night, driving away in their rickety cars. Shouts of good humour echoed round as they waved goodbye to Edith, Thomas and Yev standing together in the driveway.

"Lady Edith," said a cleaned up Jamie, appearing by her side. His golden, newly washed hair shone in the sun, he smelled fresh and masculine in a shirt he'd obviously borrowed from the household stock.

Thomas and Yev glared at him but he ignored them. He carried a picnic basket, the food gleaned from party leftovers, and escorted Edith out into the garden.

"I'm so sorry about last night, how rude of me. That Barclay, he's a dunderheid, I didnae want you to get involved with him."

"Dunderheid?"

"Sorry. An idiot, a fool."

"Oh I see. Thank you. Did you enjoy the party?"

"Aye. I didnae expect a gunfight though." He laughed and so did Edith.

"Thanks for protecting me during the fight. It was you, wasn't it?" Her memories of the comforting tweed jacket returned.

"It was. Where shall we sit?"

They chose a corner of the lawn by the azaleas.

Looking back at the house, Edith saw the flash of the telescope lens as Thomas kept an eye on them, and smiled.

"Very protective, your brother," said Jamie, handing her a sandwich on a china plate.

"Yes."

"Who's that other chap?"

"Yev? He's- er- he's my brother's er- friend-" She was hopeless at lying and blushed.

"I see." Jamie wasn't naïve.

"He maintains the house, the car. He's the practical one. He's like another brother to me really."

"So, what do you do living here?"

She explained her role as the charmer, persuading people to buy the designer clothes. A part she'd never played before, but had learned to love. Her aristocratic accent and bearing had weight with customers and they trusted her.

"It's what we live on. Thomas is becoming an expert in making money, it's his talent."

Jamie nodded.

"But what d'you do for fun? When you're not working?"

"I- I like reading and painting. I like horse riding. At least I used to when I lived at home. I enjoy walking, I usually go with Yev. He likes to know about English flowers and trees. I used to go to concerts with my family and look at architecture-" She paused, abruptly aware of the things she used to enjoy when living at Downton Abbey.

"Well… If you don't mind, I could take you out to concerts. And architecture exhibitions." He raised an eyebrow at her. "If your- er- brothers don't object?"

She was just about to agree with enthusiasm, when she remembered the only piece of useful advice Mary had ever given her: don't be too eager.

"Yes. That would be delightful," she said, and smiled brightly.

#####

Back at the house, Thomas was watching Edith and Jamie through the telescope while Yev tidied up.

"You are obsessed," he laughed, brushing crumbs off the sofa.

"Can't be too careful. He might be a madman."

"Are you feeling better now? You were upset at the fighting."

"Not upset… well, a bit. I'm alright now."

"So." Yev carried on clearing up. "You have your money now. No one telling you what to do. You are happy." It was more of a statement than a question.

"And you? No more gangsters coming after you?" He stopped the blond Russian wiping the table and sat down with him on the sofa.

"Don't think so." Yev grinned, his blue eyes meeting the grey ones of his lover. "They are all dead and buried."

"And Edith's finally found a man. Never thought I'd end up with my own house when I started selling bootleg stuff."

"I never thought this house would be mine, when they first brought you to my room."

They smiled at each other, and kissed.

THE END.


End file.
